The away dressing room at The Den, Millwall's famously hostile stadium, was not a dressing room. It was a concrete box, painted a sickly, pale green color that seemed specifically chosen to make people angry and nauseous.
It was cramped, it was damp, and you could already hear the roar of the home crowd through the thin walls, a low, animalistic sound that seemed to vibrate in your teeth.
Michael stood in the corner, trying to make himself small.
The vibe in here was the polar opposite of the triumphant bus ride home from Old Trafford.
His "Barnsley Braves" looked less like braves and more like a group of very young, very nervous kids about to be fed to lions.
And all their nervous, worried glances were being directed at one person.
Raphael Santos.
The kid looked even smaller and thinner than usual, his [CA 48] body practically swimming in the official Barnsley red kit.
